Harry Potter and the Shadow of the Prince
by Palendaria
Summary: Harry helps a little boy named Alan, who's bullied by Dudley's gang. But Alan is neither as innocent or as weak as he may seem. And he's up to nothing good. HarryHermione will come up later! This is my first fic, so please R&R!


Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me! Not even the idea of the story.

I want to thank Quizgirl for allowing me to write about this super plot of hers! 

**Chapter 1.**

It was the evening of a hot day in Privet Drive, Little Whinging, and Harry Potter was as usual, as he had been every evening the last two summers, strolling along the streets in the neighborhood. It was about one year since dementors sent by Dolores Umbridge, Harry's evil former teacher in Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, had attacked him and Dudley here, and this evening wasn't too different from that night. The whole environment seemed unmoved, it could have been the same day, but still it couldn't, cause everything else had changed.

Harry thought back on his last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ron and Hermione had become prefects. Once, that had mattered a lot, but now, he didn't care. The whole wizarding world had believed he was an insane, wannabe hero, and hardly anyone had believed Harry and Dumbledore when they said Lord Voldemort was back. Not until the end of last year. The terrible end, when Harry had believed Sirius Black had been Voldemort's captive in the Department of Mysteries. Harry, with his stupid "saving-people-thing" had of course run off to save his godfather, but instead, he had ended up causing his death.

Suddenly, Harry heard someone yelling, and he ran around the corner of the street to find Dudley's gang closing up around a little, dark-haired boy Harry had never seen before. Dudley Dursley was standing right in front of the kid, who looked ten or eleven years old.

"I'll punch you, you know," growled Dudley to the boy. "When I'm finished, your mummy won't recognize you!"

Harry had to admit that his cousin no longer looked like a pig wearing a wig. During the last year Dudley had advanced in his "noble sport", heavyweight boxing, from Junior Inter-School Champion of the southeast, to All-England Junior Champion. Harry wasn't sure who'd won a brawl with Dudley on one side against Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle on the other. With the two last not using magic, of course. Harry grinned nastily.

"Never able to come up with others than that old one, are we, Dudders?" he said loudly, smirking at Dudley.

Everyone turned to him, gaping. Several of the boys in Dudley's gang were sniggering stupidly, reminding Harry strongly of Crabbe and Goyle, Draco Malfoy's cronies. Draco Malfoy was Harry's archenemy at Hogwarts, and compared to him, Dudley seemed like a kind, gentle, if not to bright boy. Now, however, Dudley looked rather scared, and he obviously didn't know what to do. Harry smiled wider.

"Shall we take him, Dud?" asked Simion.

Dudley hesitated a minute. Harry noticed that he was shivering slightly.

"No. Just… forget him," Dudley managed to say sheepishly. "We go home to me, mum has made pie."

"Enjoy your meal, then, Big D, but don't eat too much! We don't want to grow even more piggish, do we?" asked Harry, smiling innocently.

Alan laughed. Dudley blushed, but ignored Harry, and then led his angry and confused buddies away. Several of them sent Harry puzzled looks, but they said nothing. Dudley was the boss; they obeyed him.

The little, dark-haired boy sighed in relief and turned to Harry.

"Thanks," he said brightly. "How did you do that?"

Harry smiled a real smile for the first time in a very long time.

The boy's name was Alan Carpenter, Harry soon found out. He had just moved to Little Whinging, from Wales. He seemed to love talking, and he reminded Harry sharply of Colin Creevy, in the way he almost immediately started to fancy Harry. He'd been walking alongside Harry, asking him about a million various questions, which Harry dully replied, when he finally said: "So, where do you go to school, Harry?"

Harry was about to tell him of St. Brutus School for criminal boys, but stopped himself. Here was someone who hadn't heard that stupid story of Uncle Vernon's, and actually considered Harry OK, and Harry wasn't going to spoil this new friendship, no matter how bothersome Alan might be. He was the only person Harry had met since the summer holidays started that didn't treat him like a bomb that might go off any minute, or like some criminal weirdo.

"I go to a boarding school up in Scotland," Harry said, smiling at the younger boy.

"Is it cool?" Alan asked with excitement.

"Quite cool," Harry said, grinning.

Alan invited Harry home. Harry accepted at once, because being anywhere away from the Dursleys was perfect with him, even if it wasn't at the Borrow, Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend's house, or at Hogwarts.

Alan lived in a big, square house, seemingly not very different from the Dursley's, but with a, to Harry, much more welcoming atmosphere. Alan's parents weren't at home, and Alan was not sure of when they would be, but he didn't seem to care too much about it. He showed Harry around in his home, and Harry appeared to like him more and more.

They sat for at least an hour talking about Dudley and his gang, and Harry found himself wishing he could tell Alan about events such as when Hagrid gave Dudley a pigtail, and the Dursleys had to tell the private doctor it was a out of control wart, or when the Weasley twins, Fred and George, had given Dudley a chewing gum that made his tongue blue and several feet long. That had been just before the Quidditch World cup two years ago, the Weasleys had actually blown up the Dursleys fireplace to come and fetch him. Harry laughed just at the memory of it, and suddenly, more than he had on a very long time, he longed to be with his friends, Ron and Hermione. They had both written to him a lot this summer; from Hermione he had in fact got as much as a dozen letters, on only four weeks. He supposed she remembered how he had reacted on their rather poor letters last summer.

Alan went out in the kitchen to find some drinks, and came back with two goblets filled with a dark squash. "What's that?" Harry asked, frowning slightly.

"My own special," said Alan proudly. Harry wasn't lesser suspicious, but he drank. It tasted really good. Alan settled and drank, too. He seemed in a good mood, until he looked at his wristwatch. "Oh shit!" he screamed. "Mum and Dad will be home any minute! I'm really not supposed to have people here when I'm alone!"

Harry lifted an eyebrow at him. "Why didn't you say that before? I could have left earlier, I don't want to get you into trouble!"

Alan bit his lip. "I'm so sorry, Harry!" he said, looking anxiously up at Harry.

Harry rose, and Alan followed him hurriedly to the door.

"Hope to see you soon, Harry!" he said, still looking apologizing.

"Yeah, see you!" said Harry, and smiled to Alan.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were sitting by the kitchen table, their heads stuck together, whispering anxiously. For once, the Dursleys didn't react very strongly because Harry was late. They just sent him angry looks, then went back the whispering. Aunt Petunia looked angry, and Vernon was slightly pale, which was a rarity, since his skin usually varied between different shades of purple. Dudley was as usual not joining the discussion, he was watching television in the dining room while eating potato ships. When Harry came, though, Dudley sent him a scared, angry look, but decided not to do anything, and went back to the television.

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat. He had got back his usual violet colour, and glared at Harry.

"Marge is coming tonight," he said. "She called and said so an hour ago."

Harry gaped a moment in surprise. There was a long time since she'd been there now, though. Harry knew the Ministry of Magic had rejected her memories of being blown up as a balloon and flying up to the ceiling, but maybe, he thought, she still had some kind of intuition, which told her Privet Drive was a dangerous place, and that suited Harry very well. The only thing to happen that ever made number 4, Privet Drive a worse place to Harry, was when uncle Vernon's sister, Margaret Dursley, was there. All his childhood, she had been terrorizing Harry, both physically and with nasty comments about him and his parents.

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat again. "Boy, as you know, Marge don't like you."

"She's got good reasons, even if she doesn't remember them," he added sharply.

"We have decided that we'll tell her we've placed you at an orphanage."

Harry frowned but didn't say anything. He didn't care what they said to Marge.

"You are to stay in your room while she is here."

"What?" yelled Harry angrily," but Vernon ignored him.

"You are only to go to the toilet when Marge had gone to bed, or is outside. Your aunt will give you your meals trough the hole we installed four years ago."

Harry stared at his uncle. Should he tolerate this? He knew that if he wrote to Lupin, Tonks or anyone else in the Order of the Phoenix, they would turn up less than a minute after they had received the letter. But he didn't want them to think he was a coward, a little child that needed help. No, he could write later, if it got too bad.

So, when Marge arrived, Harry was up in his room, going to bed. From downstairs, he could hear her cry: "Diddy Duddykins!" and then running steps.

Harry smirked. He was actually rather happy with the situation. He would not need to listen to Marge's nasty comments, and, unlike Dudley, he would go free from her wet kisses and hugs. Not that Marge ever had hugged or kissed Harry, or ever would, but she usually did that to Dudley, and Harry knew his cousin didn't enjoy it too much. It was then Harry started to feel a little ill. But before he could feel much more, he fell asleep.

Harry woke up in the middle of the night. His head was swirling and acing terribly. He felt sick. He was drained in sweat, but still he felt cold. His whole body was shaking. It took some seconds before he understood what had waken him. Someone was standing over him, muttering strange words. "_Voldemort!"_ was the first word that razed trough his mind. But no, it couldn't be. Dumbledore had said that Voldemort couldn't hurt him here, were his mother's blood dwelt. Harry tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't move anymore. He could just lie there, waiting for the person to finish what he was doing.

After a while, the person stopped talking.

"So you're awake, Harry?" murmured a voice Harry thought he knew. "_Lumos_." The light from the tip of a wand, Harry's wand, lighted up the face of a little, dark-haired boy.

"Alan!" said Harry. He was shocked. Alan was a wizard! And what on earth was he doing?

"You know what I'm doing, Harry?" said Alan, as if he had just read Harry's mind. "I'm going to overtake your body. I'm going to possess you."

Alan laughed softly of Harry's expression.

"Of course, it will still be yours, you'll be in it, too, but it's me that've got the control. I'll decide what you say, what you do. I'll read your thoughts. You'll be totally under my control, as long as I wish!"

"How…" Harry managed to say. His tongue felt like paper.

Alan laughed again. Suddenly, he seemed a lot older. Harry realised that he was changing all the time, and his outlines seemed very dim.

"My special," Alan said. "I used a long time making it. But I'm good at potions, it was all right."

With a shrug, Harry remembered the dark, strange drink Alan so proudly had given him, and could have hit himself. How naively trusting he had been! He should have known that Voldemort would do something like this, when he couldn't harm Harry personally, when he was with his aunt and uncle.

"What did Voldemort say he would give you for doing this?" Harry said, frowning.

This question seemed to surprise, then amuse Alan.

"I'm not taking the Dark Lords orders," he said. "I'm serving no one but myself."

"Then why are you doing this?" Harry said confused.

Alan slowly shook his head. "Maybe I'll tell you. One time. But not now. Not yet."

He lifted his wand again, and said one simple, but unrecognizable word. The light went out, and Harry screamed in horrible pain as his room seemed to disappear.


End file.
